


Restless Night

by the_space_between1013



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_space_between1013/pseuds/the_space_between1013
Summary: Daryl can't sleep while Carol's out on that damn boat.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	Restless Night

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Twitter thread @ZenWordJen posted. Thanks, lady!!! 
> 
> Sadly I do not own AMC, TWD, or any of the characters. Wish I did. I'd treat them better. 
> 
> Written on the fly, all mistakes are my own!

It had been two weeks since she left. Two weeks since she climbed aboard what seemed to be a rickety old boat, by his reckoning. He’d given Tana a friendly ~~warning~~ reminder to take care of Carol, and she’d nodded knowingly. Knowing what, he didn’t know, given the fact nothing was going on. He’d brushed off that look and turned his attention back to Carol, wanting to make sure she was set and there wasn’t a thing she needed. Actually, if there was, that’d be better because then she’d stay, but there hadn’t been and she didn’t. 

And now she’d been gone for two weeks and it would be at least another week before she came back, assuming they didn’t run into trouble or find something worth investigating. 

Daryl absently scratched Dog’s ear and the little bugger jumped up on the couch and into his lap, nudging him for more. He’d become more social and affectionate since Daryl had come back to Alexandria. 

Since Carol convinced him to come home. 

And now she was gone. And he fuckin’ _missed_ her. It was an ache in his heart, dull but ever present. It was the way she was on his mind all the time. Wondering if she was okay, if she was safe, if she was cold, or hungry, or tired. If she cried herself to sleep at night, the way he’d heard her do when he’d made rounds in the house. She’d always seemed to sense him close by though, because she’d stopped or quieted her sobs when he came near. 

Daryl pushed Dog off and got up, moved around, peeked outside the window, but saw nothing, not surprising given the fact it was about one in the morning. 

He _was_ tired, but he’d been unable to really sleep this time. All the other times she’d left, it’d been day trips, or a few days here or there. This time it was at least three weeks, maybe a month or more. He’d not been far from her side for longer than a few days since Henry’s death. And it was killing him. 

Daryl left his downstairs apartment and headed quietly upstairs, with every intention to go for a walk outside. Clear his head. But his feet turned at the staircase instead of heading straight out the front door and he shuffled up to the third floor. He was careful to stay quiet, not make a sound, mainly because of the kids. Judy and RJ needed their rest. Lydia’s room was on the other side of the hall across from Carol’s and was dark. Carol’s room was closed and he turned the knob, feeling a bit like an intruder. Daryl surveyed the space. Neat as a pin. Everything in its place. The bed was made, desk chair tucked under in the corner. A light coating of dust on the dresser. No personal effects. It looked like she'd never been there.

He wandered in hesitantly, trailing his fingers along the brass footboard then moving up toward the head. He sat down, looking at the twin pillows that were perfectly fluffed. She’d done that. She’d always made things neat and tidy and it almost seemed as if she wasn’t even there, like she’d never been there. 

A wave of several different emotions swamped him. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Longing. 

Daryl had watched her go out several times these past months, but each time the length of time ‘at sea’ had gotten progressively longer. She was running from something. Henry’s ghost or something more, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t help her. She wouldn’t _let_ him help her. The woman drove him crazy, she really did. Even so, Carol was his best friend, his touchstone, the one person in the world he wanted by his side. 

Yeah, it’d taken him a while. A long fucking time. To realize it. He’d come to recognize what he was feeling wasn’t just friendship. It wasn’t just family. She wasn’t Michonne to him. Or Eugene. Or Connie. Or anyone else. Carol was different. Carol was everything. 

She was the one person he couldn’t live without. 

He hadn’t told her. Hell he’d not even had the courage to finally _name_ just what he felt, but it sure as hell didn’t stop him from feeling it. 

That ball of emotion in his chest rose to his throat. Morphed into almost…grief. She was literally everything to him and she wasn’t there. He moved, laid down on the bed, above the comforter, and when his head touched the pillow, he sighed. 

It smelled like her. Like flowers and vanilla and everything that meant home to him. 

He scooted over to the other side, laid his head down, sniffed. The pillow there didn’t smell like anything. She apparently preferred the side closest to the door. Settling in, Daryl relaxed completely for the first time in weeks. His bones ached from carrying the tension of worrying over Carol and his muscles relaxed and he simply breathed. He breathed in the faint scent of her that lingered on her pillow. He felt like a bit of a perv, but part of him didn’t care. He just wanted to be close to her. Jesus, he missed her. This was the closest he’d been in weeks. Daryl’s breath evened out, his eyes grew heavy for the first time in ages, and his hand reached out to touch the spread on her side, as if he could touch her. His eyes closed for a few minutes, then opened and for a minute, she was there. _Right there._ Next to him, smiling his favorite smile and her blue eyes twinkling at him. If you’d asked him later, he’d have sworn he felt her hand brush his hair off his face. He tried to stay awake, tried to keep watching her, fought hard, but he was too tired, and soon enough, he found himself succumbing, a murmured, “Carol,” reverberating through the quiet room. 

In the morning, he woke to the sun streaming in, warm and comfortable, his mind quiet for the first time in weeks. His eyes focused and he found Judith in the doorway, a small smile on her little face. “I came to find you for breakfast. Do you want pancakes?” 

He nodded and didn’t speak, just moved off the bed and followed her out the door. He shut it quietly behind him. 

Judith and he, they never spoke of that morning. She didn’t tease him. She didn’t mention it to her mom or say anything to Lydia. It was a moment that was between them. 

And when Carol came back two weeks later, she didn’t know Daryl had slept in her bed. 


End file.
